The Faithful Black Knight

And So It Begins...

With most legends, they begin with a tale of a brave warrior who left his homeland in order to fulfill a promising destiny. A destiny that was meant for one chosen soul out of the thousands that seemed worthy upon arrival. Through hardships and long winding paths of merciless and fearless accounts, the tale ends with a happy resolution, and the brave warrior rests on his exquisite throne with his wife whom is always blessed with grace and beauty.

There is one legend however, that defies all the rules that many have glorified. His tale has become a song of sorrow and ashen colored footprints leave their mark as he continues onward. Today, he rests at the kiln of the first flame, where his master has his corpse buried underneath the fire that has since weakened over time. Though he never truly rests, he wearily guards the entrance of the banished cemetery while his fellow brethren do the same. For over a millennium, he has watched countless humans try to bypass him and his clan, only for them to die while their souls perish into the air where the sun once shined. It never occurred to him why he did what he did. Why he guarded those stone black doors like his life depended on it. He just knew it felt right. At least it did, until now.

The faithful knight, he once was, stood second in line to his only king and Lord Gwyn, possessor of cinder. A title no one in Lordran had and the knight proudly followed under Gwyn's reign. The knight had no family or friends to look back on. For, he knew not of such pleasures that the humans he watched had, and no emotion for the lack thereof. He only knew one thing and that was to serve. And so he did, along with the other chosen knights, and they single handedly trailed behind Gwyn and followed him wherever he wished.

Gwyn was a dauntless man. He stood over eight feet tall and was one of the first to acquire a Lord soul. This soul was large in its right and radiated a harsh golden ambience. Gwyn grasped the soul in both of his large and rough hands. The light from it gleamed loudly and showed the image of the worn out mortal. Long and silver struck hair with skin coated like brass. In it, he consumed the soul's power and became the Lord of Sunlight, making him damn near immortal. Gwyn, the witch of Izalith, and Gravelord Nito paraded the caves of the lost and trailed outward in order to challenge the everlasting dragons that ruled above them.

The newly crowned Lords allied with the albino dragon called Seath the Scaleless, and with his betrayal that exuded bitterness, the four of them assembled an army that made the age of fire turn its course. With his newfound power, Gwyn casted the knights to assimilate behind him. Through his hands that were now singed with fire, his weapon of lightning spears pierced through the gray skies and penetrated through the dragon's scales. The witch of Izalith relinquished her demons and made them set forth to destroy all what the dragons had. Gravelord Nito released a miasma of death, decaying the bodies of the dragons faster than their usual rate, and poor blind Seath, stood and watched while his brothers died one by one. Smiling, he snatched the skull of his fallen kin and crushed the brittle bones between his claws. A war cry of victory bellowed from him.

In his polished and silvered uniform, the knight made sure to never forget the day in which they eradicated the everlasting dragons. He stood with one leg perched on a fallen tree trunk, sword stationed at his side, while his master consulted with the other Lords as they celebrated their victorious win and claimed the new world as theirs. The flame burned bright for many centuries, and during that time the new world was constructed and each Lord respectfully went their separate ways. All agreed to be at peace with one another, and therefore no more wars were left to fulfill. In the city of Anor Londo, Gwyn and his knights existed upon the magnificent plane. Statues had been erected to showcase Gwyn's power and at that point the Lord couldn't be happier. The sun cascaded through the clouds and forced its radiance upon the land. Of course like most Lords, Gwyn wasn't just satisfied with his knights, power, and massive country, he wished for a family and with it he received his wishes. Gwyn knew that he would never have to beg for loyalty from his knights, so he left them to guard all of Anor Londo in order to tend to his castle. Three children he had with a woman no one knew her name to, and all was set right as the days went on.

The knight was positioned just outside of the castle. He stood fixated on the roof as he watched to make sure no intruders tried to make their way in. With it, he and the other knights never had to compete for a medal or throne, because they all knew their purpose and was content with the outcome that the last war had brought them. However, this particular knight was different from the others as he knew he was worth more than a pawn. Though he never spoke out against his Lord and only spoke when spoken to. When the night would fall he would walk over to the edge of the roof in order to look inside the windows to see the gloryful rooms that hid behind castle doors. Inside he would watch the beautiful Gwynevere, princess of Sunlight, talk and play with the other knights that proudly stood by her door. The knight knew it was pointless to dream and even the wall flies agreed with the idealistic approach. So he paced back and forth, bow and arrow in his hands as he watched from the rooftop a world that had turned upside down. The other knights would scoff at such behavior. They told him he should always stand with dignity and to never be poignant. Though it wasn't sadness the knight felt, it was scorn.

With all reigns, they eventually come to an end, and that thought put fear in Gwyn's heart as he knew the flame was slowly burning out. With over a century of reign under his belt, he still wanted more. His life was good and he intended for a blessing which granted him immortality. Unfortunately for him that never came with the soul he consumed. Leaving his children behind to rule the castle, Gwyn divided his power among them, the four kings, and even Seath, who took refuge in the Duke's Archives. His crown was his only possession that went with him and he gathered half of his knights to accompany him. Together they trekked all the way across Lordran in order to reach the very first kiln. For the first time the knight saw something in his Lord's eyes that didn't consist of arrogance. It was humility and grace that entered upon Gwyn's self that echoed every walk he took.

As they descended the steps that led to the abandoned field, Gwyn turned towards his knights and spoke to them words that were soft and meaningful to them all.

"I am thankful, for each and every one of your service and loyalty. I am but a man who once thought they were a God, and now I must say that my power is slowly diminishing and I won't be able to ever return home to my family. Through those doors I will link the fire and prolong our era, but whatever happens after that, I hope that you stay and find some fulfillment for what is to come. Beware my children, for the age of man will soon set its course and my legacy will be no more."

And with that, the knights all agreed in unison to descend after Gwyn in order to protect the inevitable. But the knight made sure to stay in the back, for he knew what was to come, and his loyalty was no more than a strand of curiosity. The knight watched behind a pillar as his fellow brethren blindly followed into the kiln. Miles ahead of the knight, he watched as Gwyn and the others trailed ahead for what seemed like several miles.

Upon arrival, Gwyn went to the flame that was dimmer than what it was intended to be. The knights gathered around him and the stone doors closed slowly behind them. From the distance he heard the cries and howls of his kin. The cries echoed high into the air, alerting even the crow demons. The fire that Gwyn had released scorched and destroyed the knights and even Gwyn himself. The fire spread, escaping through the doors, swallowing every knight in its path. The knight that had stayed behind cringed at the cries of death that escaped through the lips of his clan. In an unmeasured speed he saw the glow of the fire coming towards him. The smoke and power of it all consumed him, engulfing him into a pit of darkness the humans call sleep.

When the knight awakened from his slumber, he found himself in a body unlike the one he was used to and armor coated in black instead of the silver it once was. He rose to his feet, shaky at first, and peered outward to inspect the damage that was done. His feet stayed crushing the ground that was now white and resembled powder. He walked forward, only to find his dead brethren underneath the ash that he had mistaken for snow. He turned around, surveying the whole landscape. He saw the ember, the last of it, fade into the sky that was now forever tarnished from the smoke. He fell to his knees, and gathered all that was lost beneath him.

Two hundred more years had passed before Gwyn's spoken prophecy had turned true. The humans had been fed up with their mistreatment and were now challenging the Lords like the Lords had challenged the dragons. Day in and day out, humans would come to the kiln to reach the hollowed Gwyn, but the black knight stood his ground and guarded what was once an honor. He preserved those stone doors because behind it hid the only life he knew, but what is done is done, and no man can ever pause the cycle of life, and so the knight resumed to his duty. He stood with dignity like he was once told to, and wiped away the scorn he once relished in, and because of it, he will be forever known as the faithful black knight.